


Cut

by grimeysociety



Series: Prick [2]
Category: Knives Out (2019), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, No Spoilers for Knives Out, Pre-Knives Out (2019), Sweatershock, eat shit eat shit eat shit DEFINITELY eat shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: She’d never be free of him, as long as she remembered him. As long as he was still in the world, somewhere, remembering her.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Darcy Lewis
Series: Prick [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094981
Comments: 73
Kudos: 133





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my bullshit. I spent the last year not letting myself think about continuing these two, but they live goddamn RENT FREE in my head. Ooof. Enjoy this...thing, something super specific, so obviously for myself alone. ❤
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)

_This love looks like a loaded gun_   
_A noose around my neck or a sweet poison_   
_If it gets in the wrong hands, then we're fucked_   
_'Cause heaven knows what you do to me_   
_You could chain me up or set me free_   
_And you could suffocate or let me breathe, yeah_   
_Baby, you could be the death of me_

_Maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger_   
_Baby, you could be, you could be_   
_I'm falling, fading, and seeing angels_   
_Baby, you could be the death of me_   
**\- "Death of Me" by PVRIS**

Darcy went back to Manhattan. It was harder to slip back into her regular life than she expected. She spent more time checking her phone than she liked. She didn’t reach out - she didn’t want to, she didn’t know what to say anyway - and neither did Ransom.

She knew she would be insane to believe anything had really changed. He slept around. She even went to the clinic to get tested, when a wave of shame managed to break over her a few days after the wedding. She felt a similar way when she first returned to her mom’s place after she got back from Ransom’s apartment. Her mom asked her if she’d been mugged and Darcy remembered she looked so distinctly off-kilter compared to when she left earlier that morning, dressed up. She knew she looked like she’d been pushed down a greasy flight of stairs, if that were a thing. 

She had no real issue with Rebecca suspecting she had sex with someone at the wedding, but the last thing Darcy wanted was for anyone to know what happened with Ransom. She didn’t know what could be worse, being taken to hospital for the mental breakdown that could be implied for her sleeping with Ransom, or having people congratulate her for it finally happening, since she’d known him since she was a child.

She wasn’t herself. She could work for hours at a time, uninterrupted, instead of being her usual chatty self with Jane. She spent too long staring out of windows, staring into space, staring at her phone without opening any of its apps. She felt unsettled. She replayed everything over and over, picking each piece apart to examine it. She tried to recall the look in his eye when she approached him in his living room, her fingers brushing his lips as she contemplated kissing him for the first time. 

Darcy could let it go. She didn’t always think of him. She hadn’t before she went back to Massachusetts. Ransom crept up on her when she sat too still, or when she was alone. She didn’t like what he made her feel. 

It was some of the best sex of her life, first of all. Secondly, she was well aware of her being another notch in his belt. Thirdly, as long as she knew cousin Alfie, she’d know Ransom. That could be for the rest of their lives, and Darcy didn’t know how to reconcile with that. It made her filled with dread, and something else. Something she couldn’t name, not properly, like something that hadn’t grown enough features. It reminded her of the time in her junior year of high school when she saw a fetal pig in formaldehyde. She couldn’t stop staring at the jar even though her stomach turned.

Day by day, it got easier. She didn’t keep checking to see Ransom’s lack of correspondence, and she didn’t fold in on herself and send anything to him. The more she thought about it, the finality of the message he sent her, after she left him that night, said it all:

**_You made my life interesting, too_ **

She could move on, stick to what she said when she raced out of the wedding reception. She’d never go back to the Lewis family ever again. 

-

“Special delivery,” Jane murmured, passing a small cardboard box toward Darcy. 

Mail was so rare for Darcy, unless it was something she had ordered and didn’t want sent to her Queens apartment. She stared at the box she was offered for a second, wondering what it could be. 

“From H. Thrombey,” Jane added, lifting her brows. “Isn’t he that author you know?”

Darcy had never spoken of that connection, but Jane must have picked up one of Harlan’s books when she wasn’t looking, and she would have seen one of the many handwritten inscriptions on the title page. 

Darcy took the box, moving to sit at her desk, pulling her chair in. She tore into the box, pulling out a hardcover book, turning it over to read the title.

**_HARLAN THROMBEY_ **

**_WITH SUSPICION_ **

“Oh, nice,” Jane murmured over her shoulder. Darcy still hadn’t said anything. “My dad loves his stuff. I always get him a Thrombey book for him to read on the beach for the holidays.”

“This is an advanced copy,” Darcy murmured. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Jane said, crossing her arms. “Usually Barnes & Noble’s covered from floor to ceiling with his books when one’s out, and I haven’t seen that one anywhere.”

Darcy didn’t open the book, instead waiting for Jane to move away to get another cup of coffee from the pot by the kitchenette. Darcy ran her thumb over the embossed gold lettering, biting her lip. She hadn’t seen Harlan in over a year, and the guilt she’d been pushing back since she saw Ransom was back to the front of her mind. He had asked about her, according to his grandson, and Darcy never had any reason to believe Harlan hadn’t. 

She opened the book, looking down at the inscription underneath the title. 

**_To Darcy,_ **

**_Tell all the truth but tell it slant —_ **

**_Forever,_ **

**_Harlan_ **

Darcy felt her eyes unexpectedly sting. Harlan tended to write something witty, something playful. The sentiment had alarm bells ringing in her head. She sat back in her chair, book open, and she sighed, turning her eyes to the window. 

-

Darcy always found the Thrombey patriarch’s dwellings eerie. It was a beautiful block of land, surrounded by greenery and the endless New England skies, which were overcast as she stepped out of her hired Kia, shutting the door with a long exhale. 

The gray sky, combined with the chill in the air, seemed like an omen. She shivered, blowing on her hands as she glanced around. She didn’t recognise any cars. There was a Hyundai, and she supposed Harlan’s cars were in the garage. 

She could have phoned ahead, but she didn’t find her voice, not until she asked Jane for the time off to come racing down to Wellesley. To her credit, her boss did not demand an explanation. Darcy didn’t plan to stay long regardless of how understanding Jane could be. 

She walked up to the front door, raising a fist to knock. She waited a couple minutes, hearing a distant bird call, before the door finally opened, revealing the housekeeper Fran.

“Hi, I was hoping Harlan was home?” Darcy said, taking off her beanie at the last second, attempting to tidy her hair with a hand, stuffing the hat away in her coat pocket. 

Fran, who she suspected never liked her, rose her brows. 

“Was he expecting you?”

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Darcy said, feeling her face flush. “I’m sorry, I’ll come some other day.”

She didn’t know how other people did this, showed up unannounced and entitled. She never got the Lewis trait of reckless self-righteousness, like her aunt Joanna had. She couldn’t remember her father that well, but since he’d left her family all those years ago without looking back, it indicated exactly how important Roger thought himself to be. 

“That’s alright, Darcy. He can see you today,” Fran said, her expression shifting, her features less pinched. “Come inside.”

Darcy stepped in, immediately warmer as the inside air hit her, tugging off her scarf as she looked around. She could never picture the average American family living in a house like this. It was just as well he lived alone, but the house was so vast, and so empty in some places, so cold. 

“He’s upstairs in his study,” Fran said, interrupting Darcy’s train of thought. 

Her hand was out to gesture her toward the staircase and Darcy followed her, swallowing down the dread that had begun to seep into her skin. She wasn’t one to shy away from Harlan, but she knew why she was afraid now. Since sleeping with Ransom, she felt like it showed on every layer of her. By the time they reached Harlan’s study, Darcy’s face was already flushed in anticipation, her hand deep in her pocket, gripping her beanie for some kind of emotional tether. Fran pushed the door open a little wider, knocking on it once.

“Darcy is here.”

She needed no further introduction. Darcy craned her head, seeing Harlan at his desk, a pair of glasses on the end of his nose, before her stomach plummeted to somewhere close to her knees. Ransom stood beside him, peering down at whatever piece of paper he was writing on. 

Darcy froze, remembering everything again, the nausea so profound she pressed her lips together, gulping as Harlan glanced up, his hand reaching for his spectacles.

“Darcy, hello.”

Darcy made herself only look at Harlan. Her paranoia led her to believe that Fran had known Ransom’s presence could illicit this type of reaction, which was why she hadn’t warned Darcy he was there. Perhaps he’d been his typical self to the housekeeper, and Fran wanted someone else to deal with him, redirecting the attention. Darcy wouldn’t put it past anyone, especially not herself. If she knew Ransom was there, she would throw anyone in his way as a distraction. 

Her face burned but she propelled herself forward, walking over to the desk as Harlan rose from his chair, moving out from behind the desk to greet her with widening arms. He hugged her tight, a gesture that he never seemed to stop, not even as he’d grown older and used a cane. Darcy knew his handwriting had changed because his hands now shook, but he was steady with her now, their embrace so welcome. Darcy kept her eyes shut when it happened, not trusting herself not to look at Ransom, and when Harlan drew back, she felt his hands on either side of her face, smiling at her, and all she saw were his eyes.

“So good to see you,” she murmured. “How are you?”

“Old,” he said, smiling. “And you?”

“Poor,” she said, grinning. 

“Excellent, so nothing has changed,” he said. 

Darcy heard Ransom give a little cough and she finally glanced his way, and with all the effort she could muster, kept her face perfectly neutral.

“Hi, Lew-Lew,” he said.

“Ransom,” she returned. 

Fran was lingering by the doorway, clearing her throat. 

“Would you like a drink?” Harlan asked her, and Darcy shook her head. 

Darcy knew Ransom was watching her, her guts heating under his gaze. She didn’t have to wonder why he was there. She spotted Harlan’s checkbook sitting by his fountain pen on his desk. The paper they were reading together looked official.

“I thought I’d come by,” Darcy added, eyes drifting toward the doorway, seeing Fran retreat.

“How many hours’ drive is it from Manhattan to Wellesley?” Ransom said.

Pointing out the effort she’d made would not have bothered Darcy so much if it wasn’t Ransom doing it. She didn’t like what was implied, as if she’d known there was a possibility of running into him there. She honestly hadn’t thought any of that through, her urgency to check on Harlan stronger than her worrying about any confrontation. 

It felt like this was a fight ensuing, which was so bizarre, considering how they left it last time. Any other pair of people would be nice to one another, at least. But they weren’t other people.

“Three,” Darcy said, instead of explaining herself or downplaying it. “A bit more than three.”

“Ransom was helping me with another manuscript outline,” Harlan said, gesturing toward his desk without looking back. “Walt can always use a little help.”

Walt was a piece of work, but he wasn’t so open about it like Ransom was. At least Ransom wasn’t a hypocrite. Darcy wondered how she’d got to that place, giving Ransom some kind of backhanded compliment among the mire of sexual deviances. She wished she could roll her eyes at herself and not be seen doing it. 

“You’re working,” Darcy said, speaking to Ransom but not looking at him. 

“Not really,” Ransom retorted. “Don’t alert the media.”

Lazy, entitled asshole. Smart and wasting all of it on… what, exactly? Darcy wished she had half the brains Ransom had. Darcy shifted, Harlan’s hands on her shoulders.

“So. How is Manhattan?” Harlan asked, and Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “Classified?”

She felt her lips quirk. “Yeah.”

“We’ll work out a series of winks and other cues,” he murmured, moving to take her arm, looping his through it, patting her hand as he began to walk them out of the study. Without looking back, he said: “Ransom, could you put the papers away for me? Good lad.”

Darcy glanced over her shoulder, seeing Ransom staring after her. His eyes dipped to her ass and she wondered what other obscene gestures he could come up with if she didn’t look away. She turned her head back, still feeling exposed. 

“He’s not useless like his father,” Harlan murmured to her, and Darcy decided not to comment. “Everything he gets from Linda. Everything…”

Alone with Harlan, they slipped into his library. The sun decided to peek out from behind the clouds, flooding the room with afternoon glow, Darcy’s breath catching at the sight of the sculpture of knives that were a permanent fixture of many memories in the last several years associated with Harlan. 

Darcy checked over her shoulder again, seeing Ransom hadn’t followed them to eavesdrop, so she began what she meant to say, having thought it over for hours and hours on her way to Wellesley. 

“Harlan, your note scared me,” she murmured. 

He looked her in the eye, a wry smirk forming. “It was Dickinson.”

“Yes, I know,” Darcy said, having Googled the exact phrase he’d chosen. “But you never get so sentimental with me.”

“You think I’m dying. An old man that’s about to croak, and he quotes Emily Dickinson,” he muttered, and Darcy slapped his arm, frowning.

“Alright. Don’t be a jackass,” she said. 

He chuckled, pulling her along, past a row of books that weren’t his, plucking one off the shelf. Darcy took it, turning it over. 

“Don’t read that. It’s terrible,” he said.

It was Darcy’s turn to grin. “You blurbed it.”

“Walt blurbed it, after I told him I didn’t read the damn thing,” he muttered, sounding annoyed. “But he insisted, since it’s a contemporary of mine - God, what a word. As if because they’re writing at the same time as me, we’re measured against one another…”

“Okay, we got the idea, you’re a genius,” Darcy said, putting it back. She gave the spine a good flick. “So you’re not sick?”

“I have a nurse,” he said.

“You always hated hospitals,” Darcy murmured. “So, no ailments to declare? No real reason for scaring me shitless?”

“Is that what I did?” Harlan said, with faux innocence. “Not my intention…”

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him and he gave a laugh, throwing his head back. They walked over to the window, Harlan halting, his face changing. Darcy attempted to lighten the mood.

“So, you’re still attention-seeking, that hasn’t changed.”

His brows rose and then his whole face slackened, aging him significantly. In her head, he’d always been the same to Darcy. It was only in the last few years that he’d seemed to be any older, and she hated it more than words could properly convey. His brilliant mind couldn’t be held by his increasingly feeble body. 

“Darcy, I heard about Alfie’s wedding,” he murmured.

Darcy’s stomach dropped again, her lips parting. She let her eyes drift away. She hadn’t fully explained to anyone what happened, not even her mother. It wasn’t something she ever wished to dwell on. She’d felt so humiliated and foolish. 

“And?”

“I’m sorry, for how those people treated you,” he murmured. 

She blinked at him. “You don’t think I overreacted?”

“Not from what Ransom tells me, no,” Harlan said. He gave a little frown. “Linda made it sound as if you were intoxicated. Throwing a drink in a woman’s face -”

“That I’m not exactly proud of,” Darcy cut in, and Harlan tilted his head.

“You dare lie to me, when you’re a guest in this house?” 

Darcy snorted, shrugging. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?”

They fell into silence and Darcy scanned his face, wondering too much. 

“What else did Ransom say?”

“You’re not going back,” Harlan said. “Which I understand. I, too, sometimes wish I could cut ties with family.”

“You don’t have the privilege,” Darcy murmured, her little smirk ironic and fading. “I guess I have less to lose.”

“I do wish not everything was about money, but it is,” Harlan said with a sigh. “Even when you believe it’s not, it’s about money with my family.”

Darcy hadn’t heard him say it so blatantly before. She’d suspected he despised his family, from the little jibes he threw their way in front of her over the years, but hearing him be so candid also made her alarmed, like his sentimental note. She could recall countless conspiratorial winks he sent her way, after he subtly undermined a relative in Darcy’s presence.

“Harlan,” Darcy said, placing her hand on his arm. She didn’t know where she was going with this, but she wanted to say his name, to try to ground him to the present.

“It’s my fault,” he said, eyes swinging from the window to her. “In my old age, I know these things to be true. I always had an inkling, especially when the grandchildren started to come around, Ransom and the rest…”

Darcy wanted to look around, to check if they were alone, but chose not to, keeping her attention solely on Harlan. It was the least she could do. He looked sadder.

“They are all spoiled, all rotten, because of me,” he said.

Darcy stared at the side of his face, watching as he looked back outside. She wasn’t sure his eyesight was up to seeing all the details, but he didn’t seem to care. Darcy swallowed, hearing footsteps.

“Grandfather.”

“Yes, Ransom, thank you,” Harlan murmured, turning away from the window.

He took Darcy’s arm again, petting her hand. She wished she could take him away from there, put him in her car and drive him away, only for a little while. She’d hate to be constantly checked on. She hoped that by Harlan’s age she was either dead or at least accustomed to being shuffled around every hour of the day.

“Where is Marta?” he asked, as they reached Ransom. Darcy kept herself still as she felt Ransom’s eyes scanning her, assessing. 

“I think she went to get you soup.”

“Would you like to stay for supper?” Harlan asked Darcy, and she felt her cheeks flush at the idea, shaking her head. “Really? At least stay for a drink.”

“I have to drive,” Darcy murmured. “I should see my mother on the way back.”

“Will you stay if I don’t?” Ransom asked, and Darcy glared at him, not bothering to conceal her contempt.

He really couldn’t fake social niceties for two seconds with Harlan present?

“I suppose so,” she said, and Harlan chuckled.

“He has work to do, so you can at least stay until after you’ve sat down for a little while.”

They left Ransom behind, Darcy’s stomach clenching. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but she’d barely arrived at Harlan’s. She wasn’t going to leave because of his asshole grandson. She wondered if Ransom was going to spill their secret the second he got a chance, later, as some kind of revenge. He didn’t look upset as they walked away. His chin lifted slightly at her, and Darcy felt her stomach flutter, swallowing as she looked away. 

In the dining room Harlan’s nurse Marta came in as they were served two dishes of cream of mushroom soup. Darcy dipped her spoon, glancing up at Marta. She was sweet and quiet, very cute and timid. 

“Hello,” Darcy said, giving her a little smile. Marta hesitated, before her own smile reflected back at Darcy. 

Beautiful, actually. Darcy stared at her. 

“Darcy, this is Marta,” Harlan said, and Marta nodded. She had a couple pills in her hand, carefully stashing them under Harlan’s placemat. 

“Your vitamins.”

“Thank you, Marta,” Harlan murmured. 

She nodded and disappeared, Darcy watching her go. Harlan caught her staring, smirking as Darcy ducked her gaze back to her soup bowl.

“You’ve been replaced,” he said. 

“Damn,” Darcy whispered, and he chuckled. 

-

She stayed with Harlan, sitting by him in front of the fire, the afternoon turning to night. Darcy was aware of the time, the clock by the mantel unable to be ignored, given it chimed every half hour. She hadn’t touched her phone for sometime but knew she needed to leave eventually. She’d begun to think she’d need somewhere in town to stay, and there was little option. She wasn’t about to invite herself to stay over at Harlan’s. She loved him, but after what he told her about his guilt, and how his legacy had transformed his children and their children into monsters… Darcy didn’t want to assume she could get anything from this man ever again. 

She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him and letting him dictate it, and he broke away, gripping her shoulders. They were saying goodbye in the foyer, not outside where it was dark and cold. Darcy felt herself tense at the familiar voice that came from the top of the stairs.

“You leaving, Lew-Lew?”

Darcy let her eyes swing away from Harlan. “Yes.”

“Ignore him,” Harlan whispered. “I know he’s a pain in the ass, but he got it from his mother. And… well, she got it from me. There’s too much of me there.”

Again, Darcy was floored by this revelation. She stared at Harlan, whose hand rose to stroke her cheek, a muted smile on his face. 

“Don’t stay away too long this time, my dear.”

“No, I promise,” Darcy whispered, her throat suddenly tight. 

She watched Harlan leave, quietly shuffling away with his cane down another hallway, one that was headed toward his bedroom. She saw Marta come out of a doorway, looping her arm through his, smiling at him.

She was aware of Ransom walking down the stairs, and they were alone together, the clock in the den chiming in the distance. Darcy swallowed, letting herself be seen try to pull herself together, instead of doing it outside and away from him. She passed a hand over her face.

“Did you hear about Cee-Cee?” he asked, though they both knew Darcy hadn’t. 

She blinked at him. “What.”

“She’s pregnant,” he said. He smirked, looking away, hands in his pockets. “A fruitful marriage.”

“Gross,” Darcy muttered, scrunching her nose. “Why does that matter?”

“There’s the baby shower coming up. Alfie said something about wanting to ask you-”

“He knows I threw that drink, right? He knows what happened at his wedding, for fuck’s sake?”

Ransom smiled a little wider. “So you’re not interested?”

She couldn’t picture herself exactly thriving. She’d been to a baby shower before, a friend of Jane’s asked her and Darcy tagged along. It was awkward, with women sitting around with flutes of champagne, except the mother-to-be had juice or soda and wouldn’t stop joking about having a glass of wine the second the baby was out of her. Darcy knew she was meant to care, she was meant to have some type of opinion about marriage and child-rearing that wasn’t entirely toxic, but she couldn’t make herself change her mind. 

Marriage wasn’t for her, and the idea of having kids made her feel uncomfortable. She’d be the worst type of mother, too inept and prone to panicking. The kid would barely make it past infancy. She knew a partner was usually part of the equation, but that didn’t seem realistic, either. Anything vaguely normal just didn’t sit well with her. Darcy wasn’t proud of this part of her. The older she got, the worse she felt. 

“Why would I go to Cecilia’s baby shower?” Darcy snapped. 

“Alfie asked about you. I almost called you.”

Darcy didn’t like that. She pictured his thumb hovering over the Call button on his phone, her contact there. She wondered if he used her given name or ‘Lew-Lew’ or something worse to label her. 

She finally turned to leave, hitching her bag a little further up her shoulder, self-conscious. 

“Or I could just tell Alfie about us fucking.”

The threat made Darcy freeze. She spun back around, racing toward him, not caring if Fran heard. 

“If you tell Alfie-”

She rose a finger. 

“What?” Ransom said, peering down at her. “What would you do to me?”

Darcy’s voice dropped. _“I’ll fucking kill you.”_

That would be one way to get rid of him. Perhaps the only way. Darcy imagined Ransom would outlive everyone, like some cockroach. She’d never be free of him, as long as she remembered him. As long as he was still in the world, somewhere, remembering her. 

“I’m not gonna tell Alfie,” Ransom said, his voice almost a whisper. “He’d kill me.”

Of course it was something so simple as his childhood best friend’s disapproval that stopped Ransom from ruining Darcy’s life. Darcy’s hand fell to her side and she closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“Jesus.”

“You didn’t think I was here,” Ransom said, ignoring her. 

Darcy glanced at him, frowning. “What?”

“My car’s in the shop. I hit the elephant two days ago,” he said. “You checked the grounds when you came up, and you thought I wasn’t here. I saw you.”

He was watching her? Darcy felt too much, a combination of fascination and disgust. She felt the urge to sneer about it, but instead rolled her eyes, too tired to get one last punch in. 

“You’re cute when you get all riled up, I almost forgot,” she heard Ransom murmur, as she turned away again. 

She glanced back, still walking toward the door. 

“You didn’t forget.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, not missing a beat. “Where are you going?”

She slipped out into the night, not looking back. She heard him follow her, her heartbeat picking up speed. She wished the frigid air would freeze her solid, so she’d not have to deal with this man ever again. She took a deep lungful, starting toward her hired Kia, Ransom saying:

“Lew-Lew, come on-”

Darcy wanted to scream. She stopped, whipping her head around to yell at him, only for Ransom to take hold of her arm, yanking her back, until she was colliding with him, the air leaving her lungs as she knocked into him, and Darcy was mortified.

She was transported to another age, when he used to touch her like this as a teenager. He’d grab her braid or manage to pinch her sleeve. He’d tug and poke, dig his fingers into her sides, make her squeak in surprise, her face burning with embarrassment.

She expected him to kiss her, but he froze, too, like he hadn’t meant to grab her. His eyes were wider, staring down at her mouth. Darcy stared back at him, her words caught in her throat.

“Ransom,” she blurted, she was so afraid, but she didn’t know what of. 

Did she want him to kiss her or throw her on the ground? He was still holding onto the sleeve of her coat. 

“Stop,” she breathed, belated.

He let go, hand up. “I stopped.”

She took a step back, and then another. They were still staring at each other and she didn’t know how to stop. She didn’t want him. She didn't want him to want _her_ , either. What that meant - being wanted, it was something else between them. It was so wrong.

Ransom and his family were monsters, and so was Darcy’s family. Everyone from her past should stay there, left behind with the pain. She thought of Alfie and wanted to cry. God, how could she do this to him, sleeping with his best friend?

She sucked in a breath, her back hitting her car, and she fumbled in her bag for her keys. Ransom stood watching her, and she only noticed then that he wasn’t wearing his coat, only his cream sweater, the one that had holes in the sleeves. He looked cold. She hated that she noticed his discomfort. He’d walked out with her to taunt her in the bitter cold. 

His attention only meant Darcy would feel worse, and he knew that.

“Lew-Lew,” he said, and she shook her head, turning away, eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears.

She ducked into the car, shoving the key into the ignition. She didn’t bother with her seatbelt until she was reversing and racing off into the night, Ransom in the rear view mirror, not disappearing from her sight. 


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... don't even know what to say. I feel like I just exorcised something. Enjoy. ❤

_Man, fuck your pride, just take it on back, boy_   
_Take it on back boy, take it back all night_   
_Just take it on back, take it on back_   
_Mmm, do what you gotta do, keep me up all night_   
_Hurting bad man, and it hurts inside when I look you in your eye_   
**\- "Kiss It Better" by Rihanna**

_You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I_   
_I break free and leave us in ruins?_   
_Took this dagger in me and removed it?_   
_Gain the weight of you then lose it_   
_Believe me, I could do it_   
**\- "tolerate it" by Taylor Swift**

_But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss_   
_I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs_   
_The smell of smoke would hang around this long_   
_'Cause I knew everything when I was young_   
_I knew I'd curse you for the longest time_   
**\- "cardigan" by Taylor Swift**

_Pulling thorns out of my palm_   
_Working midnight surgery_   
_When I cut a hole into my skull_   
_Do you hate what you see?_   
_Like I do_   
**\- "Souvenir" by boygenius**

Darcy couldn’t avoid Ransom forever. She tried, until she remembered he would obviously feature in Alfie’s social media. She wasn’t on Instagram as often, and Facebook was sort of a graveyard those days. 

Being Alfie’s best friend, he was in several photos Darcy’s cousin shared of their trip to Mykonos, which was meant to be one last boys’ trip before Alfie was locked away in fatherhood. It was about as charming as any other frat party Darcy had witnessed, but these men were in their thirties now, and many of them were married. In fact, Ransom was the only one of the group in the photos that was still single. 

Darcy looked at those photos so many times that she memorized the contours of Ransom’s bare chest, remembering what it was like to feel him on top of her, skin to skin, months ago in his apartment. Harlan must have paid for his plane ticket, and his share of the accommodation in Greece. Darcy could perhaps like the pictures if Ransom wasn’t in them, and yet she knew if he wasn’t on that trip, she wouldn’t care for the pictures at all. 

-

As Ransom predicted, Darcy received an email from Ceceila Lewis, which contained a pink graphic with looping gold text inviting her to the baby shower that spring in Boston. 

Darcy pondered the invitation for three days before coming to the conclusion that she did not have anything to lose, and Ceceilia had only ever been polite toward her in the very short interactions they’d had. Darcy was practically a stranger to her, but she’d grown up with her husband. 

She knew she was overthinking it. Most likely, she’d fade into the background and leave early. It was going to be at a country club, and Alfie and his friends were hanging out on the golf course and in the gentlemen’s quarters. The country club still didn’t allow women into certain areas, which was why Cecilia’s shower was going to be in what once was a teeming greenhouse converted into a crystal palace ballroom. 

Darcy bought a dress, after a couple weeks of forcing herself to look for one, and she still didn’t like it. She couldn’t show up looking like shit, she felt obligated to not stand out for all the wrong reasons upon her arrival. She wore her contact lenses and did her best at soft makeup, wearing her hair down and over one shoulder. Her dress was navy with sheer long sleeves, the hemline at her knee, and the present she brought along wasn’t something too elaborate - it was a book called _Baby’s First Year_ , which she didn’t know whether Cecilia would actually use, but at least she wasn’t arriving empty handed. 

She parked her car at the very end of a long line of cars. She didn’t see Ransom’s. She wondered when she stopped chastising herself for searching for him. Her stomach was in knots as she walked up to the entry to the crystal palace, seeing an attendant at the host stand, their pen running down a long list as Darcy stopped in front of them.

“Name?” 

“Darcy Lewis.”

Their face changed when they found her, and Darcy wished she hadn’t noticed it. She knew gatecrashing could occur, but she felt judged. She didn’t want to feel anything at all, except maybe a fleeting warmth from seeing Alfie, whose car she’d spotted. 

The crystal palace ballroom was full of circular tables covered in pastel pink and blue tablecloths. Darcy gazed around, seeing some high school alumni she recognized from the wedding, her eyes averting as she moved on, hands gripping the wrapped book a little tighter as she weaved past a group of women. 

“Darcy!”

She turned her head automatically, seeing Linda Drysdale in a sleek pantsuit, standing with a few older women, one of them Cecilia’s mother. Darcy went still, knowing she had an audience, blinking at Linda as she wandered over. She rose her arms to give Darcy a hug, smelling vaguely of cigarettes she’d tried to cover with perfume, Darcy’s arms tensing automatically. 

“I hoped you were coming, Ransom said so.”

Darcy stared at her, her stomach flipping, betraying her positive affirmations she’d begun to recite to herself whenever she felt herself growing weaker in anticipation of today:

_You are worthy._

_You deserve to be treated well._

_You can control how you react._

“Hi, Linda,” Darcy managed to say, but she couldn’t get her smile to stay fixed on her face, it kept slipping as she glanced behind Linda at the faces turned their way, watching. “You look nice.”

“So, since you’re wearing blue, we’re on the same team,” Linda said, inspecting Darcy’s dress. 

Darcy had forgotten that was why she needed to wear either blue or pink, for the prediction of the baby’s sex. She drew in a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders a little. 

“I guess so, not that it matters, really,” she said. 

“I agree,” Linda said. “A Lewis girl would be just as nice as a Lewis boy.”

Darcy didn’t own anything in her wardrobe that was pink, at least, nothing worthy of the country club. She nodded at Linda, who was still looking at her like she was trying to find something, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly behind her glasses.

“Harlan’s book came out,” Darcy said, and Linda nodded. 

She knew she didn’t like Darcy referring to her father by his first name, but that was the basis they were on, and Darcy liked to flaunt that a little sometimes, just to piss off the Thrombeys. It worked perfectly, Linda’s smile a little too wide to be real, her nod too stiff.

“Yes, with thunderous applause,” she said, and Darcy smiled at her. “I knew he sent you one, have you had time to read it?”

“Yes, but I preferred his last one,” Darcy said. “More blood.”

“Interesting take,” Linda said, her voice lowering a little. “And how is your mother?”

Darcy determined Linda didn’t want Darcy getting away with mentioning Harlan without having Rebecca spoken of. Darcy had managed to avoid it at the wedding last year. Darcy had been prepared, but she still wanted to shove Linda into the punch bowl that sat several feet away from them on a table laden with little finger sandwiches. 

“She’s well, very busy,” she said.

Linda nodded. “I would’ve thought she’d be retiring soon, but perhaps she can’t afford that next step.”

“My mother is younger than you, Linda, remember?” Darcy murmured, feeling a snide smirk spread across her face. 

These people bred all types of rudeness within her. She wasn’t like this back in New York, where she was everyone’s friend and threw smiles around that were genuine. 

“By about twelve years, I think,” Darcy added, and she made the point of looking away, to try to find a place to put her present. “So it’s not on her mind.”

“Ransom also mentioned you were at my father’s house recently,” Linda said, her tone the same, and Darcy’s eyes snapped to hers. “Very sweet of you to pay him a visit.”

“He’s like the grandfather I never had,” Darcy said, and she wasn’t lying, and her earnestness wasn’t put on. If she came across that way, she knew Linda could weaponize it.

She remembered what Harlan said about Ransom:

_I know he’s a pain in the ass, but he got it from his mother. And… well, she got it from me. There’s too much of me there._

“Is Ransom still working with Harlan?” Darcy said, shifting gears. She tried to not think about what she sounded like. “With the manuscripts or whatever he was doing?”

“He doesn’t like to be tied down to any particular field, so, no,” Linda said, and Darcy felt herself frown. “After all, he can’t travel and have a job full time.”

Darcy found herself wanting to come up with solutions. Ransom was handsome enough to become an influencer on Instagram if he wanted, but she knew it wasn’t his style. As flashy as he could be, he was strangely reluctant to advertise himself for other people. His own accounts on Instagram and Facebook were sparse. Darcy could see them both because they were public, and the last picture he’d shared on Instagram was over a year old, and it was with Alfie and their other friends in Vegas, no doubt blackout drunk, the image blurry.

It didn’t stop Darcy from looking at it, wondering what he was like when it was just Alfie and him, if her cousin got to see a different kind of Ransom to the one Darcy got. She knew the longevity of their friendship made it strong, but there had to be a loyalty there, especially when Ransom could easily brag about screwing her months ago. 

“Hopefully Alfie can steer him in the right direction,” Darcy said. 

She knew it wasn’t possible, since Alfie had already been with Cecilia this long and it hadn’t inspired Ransom to settle down. She saw Linda have the same thought, her features a little more pinched. She reached out, touching a little speck of something on Darcy’s shoulder that she brushed away.

“I was always so happy to see you, when the three of you were growing up,” she said. 

That meant she hated her. Darcy knew how these people spoke, how their code worked. Linda was playing with her food, before she went in for the kill. Darcy just had to get away before she took it all to heart. She was older now, and she didn’t have to do any of this if she didn’t want to. She wasn’t tied to Harlan in any business. Did Linda see her as a real threat? Somehow, the thought had not occurred to Darcy until just now.

“I must confess,” Linda added, voice soft. “I always wished you’d catch Ransom’s eye.”

Darcy felt her insides twist. Her face had frozen, and she tried to remember how she was before all of this, when she thought Ransom hated her as much as everyone else. He could still hate her, it was possible to be attracted to someone and despise them as well. Darcy had lived that reality for almost her whole life. She remembered her phase in middle school when she tried to be his friend instead of throwing venom back at him, in some vain hope to make him different, but it only made him worse. The extra facet of knowing he was attracted to her since before she was even a teenager warped it further - had he noticed her attempts and then doubled his own efforts to isolate her from everyone, because of who she was? 

Darcy didn’t say anything for a few seconds, her thoughts racing, and then she pretended to not know Ransom better than she did. She knew what his mouth felt like on her cunt. She’d tasted herself on his sloppy mouth, he’d kneaded her flesh and smacked into her ass with his hips. She’d heard him come, she knew the moans and groans he made when he lost control. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Darcy said, making a face like she was only feeling a little uncomfortable, when in truth she felt ill. She scrunched her nose a little for effect, Linda smiling at her.

“Oh, you would be able to keep up with him, I’m sure.”

Linda couldn’t know. Ransom wouldn’t tell her. He hated her, but he didn’t hate her enough to fuck Darcy only to get to her, to threaten the Thrombey legacy even more than he already had. 

“And I never liked any of the girls people take pictures of with him,” Linda added.

That was a not-so subtle jab at Darcy’s appearance, surely. She knew she didn’t look like the girls in the society pages, the ones who were too young to legally drink. Darcy could recall a party she’d been at with Alfie years ago, and Ransom was hooking up with a Paris Hilton lookalike, visually Darcy’s opposite.

“I should find Cecilia, and say hello,” Darcy said, deciding she wasn’t going to let Linda have any more time. She sensed her nerves beginning to show, and she didn’t want some repeat of the wedding reception, as much as Linda would deserve a drink flung in her face. 

She didn’t expect Linda to hug her again, but she did without Darcy’s permission, her mouth at her ear:

“You’re always welcome to come by the house, especially when Ransom’s there. Richard asks about you, too.”

The idea of Darcy taking up any of Richard Drysdale’s mind was too creepy to endure, and Darcy nodded vaguely, just to get away faster, slipping out of Linda’s grip before anything else could be said. 

She found Cecilia easily. She was surrounded by several women, looking like a fuller version of the bride Darcy saw months ago walking down the aisle. She was still ethereal, and she wore her chubbiness in a way Darcy never could - she wasn’t self-conscious as far as she could tell. Darcy licked her lips, book in hand, taking a deep breath. 

“Oh, wow!” Cecilia blurted, her eyes widening at the sight of Darcy, and she was moving toward her, smiling wide, as if they were old friends. “I can’t believe you came, Darcy.”

“Hard to get away from New York?” one of the other women said, a snicker following, something whispered that Darcy couldn’t make out. 

Cecilia ignored them, taking the present from her, pouting a little. 

“Aw, you didn’t have to!”

“Course I did,” Darcy said awkwardly, touching her hair. “Sorry, I can’t stay long.”

“Everyone is drinking for me, so please at least stay for champagne,” Cecilia said, holding the present. 

Her tummy was like a shelf. Darcy glanced down without meaning to and Cecilia followed her movement, smiling wider.

“I’m huge. Six weeks to go.”

“Wow,” Darcy said. “Any ideas on names?” 

Cecilia’s smile faded a little, hesitating. “Alfie has some ideas. I’m not sure what the family will think.”

“Why?” Darcy murmured. 

Cecilia’s Grace Kelly good looks creased a little and she shook her head. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just silly. Anyway, lovely to see you. There is plenty to eat and drink. I think the boys are doing the same next door, if you wanted to see Alfie before you go.”

Darcy knew she was being given an out and that she should take it. She nodded, watching as Cecilia began to drift back to her friends, the women beginning to chat again, still occasionally looking Darcy’s way as she lingered. 

It wasn’t so bad, Darcy thought. It was better than she expected it to go. She turned away, hearing Cecilia say softly:

“Can you put this on the table with the others?”

She heard someone else murmur, her head turning to watch as her present was taken away to a table on the far end of the ball room. She didn’t want to be seen staring any more than she had already and hightailed it to the drinks table, picking up a flute of champagne to sip. She still had to drive, so she wasn’t going overboard.

She checked her phone, telling Jane she was okay, then sent something similar to her mom. She went back to her contacts, wondering if she could call Alfie and get him to meet up with her in the parking lot before she bailed. Her eyes darted to Cecilia, seeing her laughing with her circle of friends, before her eyes shifted to Linda, who was deep in conversation with Cecilia’s mom. There were more little groups dotted around, but Darcy didn’t gravitate to any of them. She hated being reminded of what her childhood was like, and this was just like it, down to her wanting to get Alfie to bail on his friends for her. 

She looked over at the presents table and didn’t see hers sitting there. She frowned a little, before walking over to it, seeing the friend who’d taken it for Cecilia was back with their group of friends, too busy talking to notice Darcy staring at her for a few seconds. Darcy sipped her champagne, propelling herself forward, over to the table. A few women were putting theirs among the pile. Darcy knew hers could easily get lost among it all, but she wanted to be sure it was there, because something told her it wasn’t, because she knew those girls too well, she knew their kind.

She found the present, in a waste paper basket next to the table, her heart sinking despite not caring about whether Cecilia ever opened it. She didn’t hear his cousin’s wife tell the friend to do that, it must have been some mean little prank she’d decided on her own. 

Darcy stared into the trash, before she sunk to her knees and fished it out, brushing a used Kleenex off it before she placed it back in the pile, wedging it under the foot of a giant teddy bear. She drained the rest of her champagne, sucking in a breath as she took off again. 

She began to text Alfie when she stepped outside, hearing the overlapping female voices from inside the crystal palace, her guts twisting. 

**_Where are you? I want to see you_ **

He didn’t reply for a minute and Darcy contemplated taking off, not bothering to wait, but then her phone vibrated, Alfie’s message popping up:

**_Where are you?_ **

**_Parking lot_** , she replied. 

She wanted to see him, she came because this was _his_ kid that was about to be born, as much as she hated the rest of her family. Darcy thought about the long drive back to Manhattan and wondered if there was a way she could steal Alfie for a couple hours. He appeared, arms wide, grinning at her… with Ransom right behind him.

“Hey,” she called, doing her best to ignore his best friend. 

She still felt Ransom’s eyes on her. 

“Dee!” Alfie yelled, and he lifted her from the ground with an exaggerated groan. 

If only it was just the two of them. How Alfie managed to be as nice as he was in their family, she’d never know. Her brain was bent on betraying her, choosing that moment to remember wrestling with Ransom in his apartment, him chasing her and tussling with her on the floor…

“You’re leaving already?” Alfie said, putting Darcy back down, and she nodded. “Goddamn it…”

“What, it’s a miracle I came,” Darcy muttered. “After the wedding-”

“Glad you came either way,” Alfie cut in, eyes widening pointedly. “You and Ransom are in short supply-”

“Don’t like country clubs,” Ransom said, shrugging. “Don’t like babies, either.”

“You’re still gonna be godfather, though,” Alfie said, and Ransom rolled his eyes. 

Darcy stared at them both, the men glancing her way, Alfie smirking. 

“What?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, he is, Lew-Lew,” Ransom muttered. “In case anything happens to the little Lewis-Lockwood baby, I’m in charge of it.”

“Who’s godmother?” she asked, and Alfie’s eyes averted. 

He didn’t do that often, which confused Darcy. 

“Cee and I haven’t decided yet,” he murmured. He put his hands in his pockets. “How’s your mom?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She couldn’t help herself, adding: “Your wife said you hadn’t decided on a name, either.”

Ransom let out a sardonic chuckle, one she knew all too well, triggering a plethora of memories.

“He tried to float ‘Darcy’ around-”

“Ransom,” Alfie chided.

“-but Cee-Cee didn’t think the families would approve of that choice,” Ransom finished, lifting his chin a little at Darcy. 

“No ‘Hugh’?” Darcy retorted, asking her cousin, but her eyes were on Ransom. 

“No, thank fuck, can you imagine?” Ransom retorted, grinning at her.

Alfie looked suddenly tired, sighing, shaking his head. Darcy watched his shoulders slump a little. 

“You two said you have to leave,” he said, and Darcy nodded, Ransom muttering:

“Yeah.”

Darcy moved to hug Alfie, her eyes meeting Ransom’s again, seeing his smirk was back, his eyes slipping down her side to her ass, or what he could see of it from his viewpoint. Darcy’s cheeks flushed and she moved back, adjusting her bag strap.

“Lew-Lew, gimme a lift,” Ransom said, cutting threw Darcy’s mortification, and Alfie shot him a look. “What? You told me to ask.”

“Is _that_ you asking?” Alfie said. 

“Don’t even sweat it, she never went to any finishing school like these pedigree girls-”

Darcy turned her heel, losing patience, stalking off toward her car. She could hear the men arguing, but she was trying to shut them out. Whatever Ransom said next, it didn’t matter. She was beneath dirt to her, still.

She heard him walking behind her, stones crunching underfoot. She took out her car keys as he fell into step with her.

“I’m sorry, Darcy,” he said, and it was jarring, hearing her name in his mouth. 

It was like he was stepping into another world, the one she occupied with people that didn’t treat her like shit, and she didn’t like it. The murkiness of them was better than him pretending he suddenly grew a conscience. 

She’d never heard him say he was sorry, either. He couldn’t be. Ransom Drysdale had no regrets. If she didn’t know what he looked like naked, she’d have suspected he had it tattooed on his person, under his luxurious, ridiculous cable knit sweaters. 

“If you need a ride, call a cab. Or get an Uber,” she snapped. “I’m not playing games.”

“Do you think I play games with you?” he said, and she stopped, whipping her head toward him, staring him down. 

Her keys had found their way between her fingers, like claws ready to defend herself.

“When have you not?” she retorted. “All my life, and then after the wedding-”

“I meant every second of that,” he said, and it was Darcy’s turn to laugh without mirth, glancing away. 

“I’m a notch in your belt,” she said, and he gave a little shrug.

“Yeah. But it was consensual,” he said, which was true. Darcy couldn’t fault him on that.

“I was out of my mind,” she murmured. 

“Oh, no doubt,” he said, brows lifting. “Never said it wasn’t a stupid move on your part. But you must’ve been curious.”

She had been. It was one of the reasons she’d gone home with him. That, and his confession that he’d been attracted to her since before anyone else. A part of her knew he was the first to see her for more than Alfie’s little cousin.

Ransom’s hands dug into his pockets as they stared at one another. Darcy wondered if Alfie had watched them walk off together, because he wasn’t anywhere to be seen now. They were completely alone, the sounds of the country club filling the silence. 

“Do you remember the time you skipped school to come to the movies?” he said, and Darcy frowned at him. 

Of course she remembered. It was one of the few good memories she had from back then. It was one of the only times she hadn’t minded him being there. Alfie persuaded her since finals were already over, and he was only in town from college for a few nights before he meant to take a longer trip with his frat buddies, which included Ransom though he never joined a fraternity, only made friends with everyone at their campus. When he’d shown up in his car with Ransom, Darcy thought about running back into the cafeteria. 

“Yeah,” Darcy murmured, feeling herself smile a little bit, Ransom doing the same.

“What fucking movie did we see, again? Some Jason Statham one?”

“ _The Bank Job,_ ” Darcy murmured, pretending like she had to struggle to remember, squinting at the ground for a second. “It was terrible.”

She bought the DVD. She took it with her, every move, for years afterward. She still had it somewhere in her apartment back in New York. She’d made Jane watch it when they were really drunk back in New Mexico. 

“God,” Ransom said. “I found that Polaroid-”

Darcy’s eyes snapped to his, staring at him, but he seemed unpeterbed. 

“-of us together, getting ice cream after.”

Darcy thought she dreamt that Polaroid, since she didn’t have a copy of it. Ransom took it, his arm extended, with Alfie between them on a bench at the mall, by a fountain. Darcy could remember the wishing that inspired. She’d wished so badly Ransom could be like that with her, forever. She knew even then that there was no chance of that. He still thought of her as a baby, at least, that’s what she thought back then.

“You kept that photo? I thought Alfie had it,” Darcy muttered. 

“I stole it,” Ransom said, and Darcy continued to stare at him, trying to read his face.

His eyes were bright, his gaze above them for a few seconds, reminiscing. That summer, she moved to Culver, and she began to shift away from her old life, and managed to find out she wasn’t worthless. She made friends of her own, and she didn’t have to rely on Alfie anymore as a best friend. 

“Why?” she blurted, and he looked at her again, brows lifting slightly.

“I liked how you looked in it.”

Desire stirred inside her, a little impeded by the calculating she’d already begun. 

“You were twenty-two, almost.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, shrugging. “I didn’t feel so guilty cause you were-”

“I was _seventeen_ ,” Darcy said. “Still underage.”

“I said, _less_ guilty,” Ransom said, voice dropping to something low and rough. 

“Ransom Drysdale doesn’t feel guilt,” Darcy muttered. 

She finally reached for her car, adjusting the key to slot it into place, unlocking the door. Ransom lingered by her side, watching her, towering over her like always. It reminded her of the times he’d harass her by her locker. As he stood with her now, he reached for her hair, Darcy feeling white hot lust rip through her as his fingers brushed it from her shoulder, before they lay on her, digging in enough to signify some type of ownership.

It was beyond a brotherly touch like Alfie was prone to, or Thor, or even Erik Selvig when he visited the Tower every quarter to share research with Jane. 

“Ransom,” Darcy warned. 

A part of her knew she liked it, him not having any boundaries with her, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. He didn’t do it with every girl, as far as Darcy knew, but when he did, his intentions were clear. He’d never touched Cecilia that way, but Darcy had seen plenty of her friends. A notch in his belt, she thought.

“Darcy,” he said. “When are we gonna do this again?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he said, and Darcy turned to him properly, his hand still on her shoulder. 

“What did you say to your mom?” Darcy deflected, and his hand instantly recoiled, his features twisting.

“What about Linda?” he snapped, and Darcy smirked, having clearly hit a nerve. 

“She spoke to me, you would’ve known I’d see her,” she said. “She said you stopped working with Harlan-”

“And what?” he drawled, breathing a sigh. “She’s worried about her only son? Please. That woman hates me more than she hates my father, and that’s saying something…”

It occurred to Darcy that he’d learned this, to act like this. Someone had taught him a long time ago that he was rotten to the core, and he’d taken it to heart, and then taken it in his conniving stride. Darcy stared at him, seeing the obvious shift. 

“God, you’re right,” she murmured. “She fucking hates you.”

“Something for you two to bond over?” he sneered, but it seemed half-hearted by Ransom’s standards.

“I think she thinks I’m sleeping with Harlan, or something like that,” she murmured, finally naming what she suspected. She folded her arms. 

“Are you?” Ransom said, and Darcy didn’t blink, didn’t give him an inch.

“What do you think?”

There was a spark in his eyes, the same she’d seen when she riled him up, telling him to take off all his clothes before he let her come near her again, the condom in her hand, standing on the bed as he stripped for her. 

“That might give me a complex, Darcy,” he said, and Darcy grinned, Ransom’s eyes falling to her mouth. “Fuck, if that were true-”

Darcy broke away. “Well, it’s not.”

She was enjoying this too much. She should leave, but he was compelling. Ransom always had that way about him, that he was the bad guy you couldn’t stop watching. She’d seen him over the years cuss out everyone in a room, everyone screaming back at him while he grinned like a cat that got the cream. He was his own best friend, because he belonged in that dark space people avoided. His own family were better at hiding how nasty they were, at least he was consistent. 

She opened the car door and moved to get in, Ransom’s fingers wrapping around her wrist, stopping her. She glared at him, not playing games anymore. Her body was her own, despite how she felt the heat of desire swooping down her front, gathering beneath her navel and between her legs. She pushed her thighs together on instinct, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Let me go.”

She said it like she was reprimanding a toddler. She was not a thing to play with, but wasn’t that a lovely idea? She imagined him throwing her down on that bed of his, fucking her like he was mad at her. He managed to stoke every fire within her. 

She was fucked up, she thought vaguely. Fucked up and it was no wonder Ransom did that to her. 

“Where are you staying?”

“Where are you?” she said, cheeks heating. 

He smiled, eyes dipping to her front, his chest lifting and falling with a deep breath.

“You can drive me home.”

Before she could say anything else, he added with a stage-whisper:

“I won’t tell anyone, and I promise I won’t come where you don’t want me to.”

Darcy felt like her face was on fire. Anyone else would run for the hills, screaming, or at least run to the police and demand he be barred from seeing her ever again. He kept very still, except for his hand that he withdrew.

“I never fuck the same girl twice, though,” he added.

“Am I supposed to feel special?” Darcy threw back. 

“Cursed, I guess,” he said. “Must be something about you.”

She didn’t actually hate herself for the first time it happened. Twice, that meant it was a habit, and he knew it, too. How did he justify it to himself, when she was the cousin of his best friend, the only person he seemed to be loyal to?

Darcy slipped into the car.

“Get in.”

She shut the door and heard Ransom chuckle, long and low, like she’d told him a joke he already knew the punchline to.

-

His house was worth more than a million dollars. Darcy knew that because Harlan made the papers after purchasing it. She still got alerts for anything Thrombey related, but the article had failed to mention that Ransom was the one to live there. 

It was beautiful, with mid-century furniture and long windows to show the trees surrounding it. Darcy stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut and looking around. Ransom’s neighbors were far away, none to be seen in the street. 

He let them in and Darcy wondered how she got to the next part, how she managed to tip-toe around it, to get to where she could forget herself, her mind going blank with lust.

It was the afternoon. Last time it was night and she’d already had a couple drinks. She was full of venom then, her mind reeling. 

_I’ve been trying to fuck you since you were in the seventh grade._

“Where’s the Polaroid?” she murmured, breaking their silence.

They hadn’t said anything for the last couple miles, in fact their conversation during the trip over was just Ransom giving directions, the radio filling in the gaps. Darcy kept noticing how Ransom wasn’t smug, but quiet.

Ransom’s brows lifted, his jacket pulled off and flung over his couch. He smirked, running a hand through his hair.

“Bedroom.”

He pointed down the hallway. Darcy was pulling off her jacket, frowning.

“You…”

“I jerked off to it, I thought that was implied, Lew-Lew,” he said, and Darcy glanced at the ceiling, sighing. 

“You’re disgusting-”

He came toward her, surprising her despite her being in his house, despite there only being a sole reason for her to be there at all. His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her, like Alfie had, as if his friend had prompted the idea.

He stared up at her, Darcy’s eyes having widened in shock.

“You like it, you like that I’m fucking filthy-”

He kissed her, open-mouthed, as dirty as he could be, Darcy’s moan ripped from her, settled back on the floor, his hands in her hair. Her eyes flew shut as she surrendered, kissing him back, but he was racing ahead, sucking at her lips and tongue, fingers yanking at her scalp. 

Darcy moaned again, stumbling, but he caught her, pulling her flush against him. It was like a lover’s embrace, tender as he drank from her, Darcy’s arms around him, fingers turning to claws as they gripped his sweater. 

When he broke away, she was panting, his lips on her throat, sucking at her pulse point, a loud smack as he pulled back to look her in the eye again, hands on either side of her face, Darcy’s hands going to his wrists and gripping them, hard.

“When are you gonna let me fuck your ass, huh?” he whispered, and Darcy was frozen, that devilish look in his eyes, his mouth pink and wet. 

“Jesus Christ, Ransom,” she whispered. “You’re-you’re so-”

“Crude, lewd, rude?” he whispered back, almost a growl. “It’s what I’m good for. Sit on my face and I’ll get you all wet and ready and I’ll-”

She kissed him to shut him up, hard enough that he groaned, hand cupping the back of her head, and he was moving them backward, down the hallway. Their tongues tangled and Darcy wished she could take a picture, to preserve this feeling when the guilt set in later. She wanted this, she’d always wanted this. It was only Ransom she wanted this from, the thought dawning on her when he spun her around, bending her over at the waist. 

His hands dove under her dress, yanking down her stockings and underwear, his fingers finding the cut of her, his other hand gripping her front, over her dress. 

“Still tight for me,” he hissed, and Darcy moaned, unable to keep it inside, rocking against his hand as he tucked two fingers inside her, the sudden intrusion making her shiver and want to writhe.

“Huh?” he whispered, his lips at her ear. “Still so tight for me, huh, Darcy?”

Darcy made herself not nod, eyes squeezing shut as she whimpered.

“You get so fucking wet when I say your name, good girl,” he hissed.

His hand on her chest left her, and she heard his belt being unbuckled, and she licked her lips in anticipation, trying her best to remember how he made her feel last time-

His nails bit into her ass, and she gasped, feeling him begin to push inside. She felt every ridge of him as he slowly filled her to the hilt, groaning when he was fully sheathed, his hips against her ass. His forehead pressed to the side of her face, and he was almost crushing her into the mattress, fingers resting against her cunt as he cupped her, slowly beginning to thrust.

“Darcy…”

He voice was _tender_ , the sound like a punch to Darcy’s gut, and she whimpered again, feeling tears inexplicably gather, her eyes fluttering shut as he found a rhythm. 

He gathered her hair in his fist, his hips snapping, Darcy crying out, and he pulled her head backward, making her kiss him, everything rushed and messy. He had no intention of being gentle, despite his voice. He shifted again, fingers circling her clit as he hit her deep inside, Darcy unable to keep still or quiet, even with her mouth against his or her body pinned beneath him, helpless.

“Ah-ah-ah-ah- _ah_ -”

“Give it to me,” he hissed. “Good girl that you are, Darcy. _Give. It. To. Me_ -”

She came, yelling, Ransom laughing, kissing her like he meant to smother her, Darcy’s vision blurring as she fell apart. She sobbed for real, so overwhelmed by her climax, by his punishing thrusts.

He was hurting her, but she wanted it. She wanted it so much she told him, slurring her words as he still laughed, having made her this mindless puddle beneath him.

He flattened her to the mattress, losing composure, crumbling with her hair still taut in his fist, tongue in her mouth, jumping inside her as he came.

They both panted, Ransom sliding out of her, both of them groaning as he left her body, Ransom flopping down beside her, their noses brushing as they gulped the air. Darcy tried to move but couldn’t. 

“You meant for me to limp out of here?” she whispered, and he chuckled, eyes closed, his hand moving up her side, to rub her sleeve.

-

Darcy sat up, having lost some time, not sure how long she’d been lying there, grunting as she managed to get up from the bed. Ransom lay on his side, his naked lower half almost comical, if Darcy hadn’t remembered at that moment that he hadn’t worn a condom.

“Shit,” she whispered, but he was asleep, or thereabouts, and she shuffled toward the bathroom, slipping in and shutting the door behind her.

She leaned against it, putting her face in her hands, taking them away to look at herself in the mirror above the sink.

She looked like she’d been mugged. She swallowed, turning her head one way and another. He’d left a hickey and she pressed her fingers to it, feeling it was tender to the touch. She sighed, looking down at her legs, seeing the mess on her thighs. 

She peed, cleaned up as best she could, and walked back out. The spell hadn’t yet broken, Ransom sitting up, yanking his shirt and sweater off and throwing it aside. He peeled back the blanket, Darcy watching him as he slipped under, looking up at her.

“Get in, Lew-Lew,” he murmured, and her stomach flipped. 

She stood by the bed, pulling off her dress over her head, tossing it aside, her hands going to her bra strap to unhook it, the garment joining the rest on the floor. He watched her with a different look on his face, something she hadn’t seen before. 

It was reverence, she realized, when she slipped into the bed, lying on her side like he was, staring back at him.

“I need Plan B,” she said, and he nodded. “Though it would be an interesting way to get that Thrombey coin I’ve been after all these years…”

“My mom wants to set us up,” he said, smirking, and he reached for her, tracing her shoulder with a finger. His hand glided down her side, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple until it stiffened, his eyes warmer. 

Was this affection? Was Ransom capable of that, or was Darcy seeing what she wanted to see, to justify herself?

“I think she said it to me to insult me today, though,” Darcy murmured.

“She said we deserve each other,” Ransom said. His voice sounded flatter. 

“Ouch,” Darcy whispered. 

His eyes moved up to meet hers and he sighed. Darcy shifted, lifting her head a little.

“Show me the picture.”

He rolled over, and Darcy felt the urge to chase his skin, staring at the back of his neck. It was so… inviting, to reach out and touch him, to stroke him. Why was she like this?

He retrieved it from a drawer, handing it to her. The Polaroid was a little crumpled, but it was definitely the three of them, Alfie, Ransom and Darcy sitting by that fountain, which looked so much smaller in the picture than Darcy remembered it to be.

“Jesus.”

“I loved that red shirt,” he murmured.

Darcy looked shy, the angle of the picture taken so that the barest hint of her clavicle was showing. It wasn’t racy at all. She looked completely innocent there, which made Ransom’s admission all the more jarring. What was so appealing about her then?

Or even now?

“Why are you like this, Ransom?” she whispered.

There was a flicker of something scary in his eye, and then Darcy saw she’d hit another nerve, his lips curling in a would-be cruel smile. 

“Like what?”

“I feel like you know everything about me,” she whispered, and his face slackened, surprised, his lips parting. “I feel like…”

He knew her best. How fucked up was that, that he knew her better than anyone else? She didn’t hide from him. She knew she monitored herself a little, but it wasn’t the same as with everyone else.

He looked down, closing his eyes. 

“I’m not asking you to _do anything_ ,” she said. “I’m just - I’m just saying this all now before I run away again. Just listen to me for five fucking seconds.”

He swallowed, nodding. His eyes darted to her face, his hand reaching up to take her by the chin.

“What is on your mind?” he murmured.

“I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t think you do, either.”

If they were younger, she would have been afraid of him lashing out. His eyes searched hers.

“And what? You’re saying we belong together?”

He said it like he meant to throw it back in her face, but she knew him better. She’d struck another chord. 

“You hate that your mom hates me,” she said. “You hate that I’m a Lewis.”

“I wish your dad took you with him to Singapore,” he said, which she hadn’t expected. His thumb traced her lower lip, pulling it down a little, peering at the bubble of spit that gathered between her teeth and her tongue, before Darcy shut her mouth. “I looked him up a few times, just because I could.”

“And?” Darcy breathed.

“Thought about poisoning him.”

“Why?” Darcy prompted, and Ransom’s handsome face frowned. “Why, Ransom?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Darcy closed her eyes, feeling those tears again, but she didn’t know what she wanted to cry about the most. If she didn’t know him, would this have happened? If she’d known him in some other place, in another time, would they have this? Would she want him to hold her, to break her neck after he’d finished inside her?

What he didn’t want to say - she didn’t want to hear it, either way. If he said nothing, then she didn’t have to know what he was trying to keep in. Schrödinger's confession - he was both heartfelt and heartless, and it was enough for Darcy to survive.

“You’re smart, you already know how this fucking ends,” he whispered, and she felt herself give a little sad smile, her eyes closed. “And you know I’m not saying this as some type of… fucking brooding, self-preservation bullshit. I’m not asking for you to run to the airport for me. I’m telling you not to fall for any of this.”

Not to fall for any of the tenderness he’d lapsed into by mistake, she realized. She swallowed, nodding, blinking him back into view. He stroked his hand down the side of her face, taking a deep breath. 

“We’re not like other people, Darcy,” he said. “But you can change.”

“You can’t?” she whispered, sounding like a child.

He shook his head slowly. “You know I won’t.”

She placed her hand over his. “So why did you let this happen again?”

He stared back at her, something about the look he gave her felt life changing. Darcy’s guts twisted. She wanted this moment forever, for it to stretch on and on. 

“If I said it, you’d make fun of me,” she said, and he smirked. 

“See, we do know each other.”

She let out a huff, a chuckle ebbing from her lips, and she shifted back, his hands slipping down her neck, staying there as she looked away, at how the afternoon sun shone on the far wall. She liked it there, which was away from the rest of their lives. 

“We’ll end up in body bags,” she whispered. 

But he was her first ever love, when she prayed to God that her good intentions would make him softer. She prayed to fix him, to fix herself so she didn’t care about every lingering touch of his. She hated and loved him with every beat of her heart.

She drew in a shaky breath, a tear managing to fall, and she wiped it away, clearing her throat.

“I should go.”

“Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


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